


Crowned

by lategoodbye



Series: Oh, rage is desire. [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dark, Hux-centric, Love/Hate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5714947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lategoodbye/pseuds/lategoodbye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux wonders what it's like, wearing Ren's helmet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowned

He didn't dare move. Held into place by his darkest desires he watched the familiar shape descend. Soon, he could feel it claw into his scalp. It deafened him, blinded him, and for a moment he couldn't draw breath. It caressed his cheek, stole the ghost of a kiss from unwilling lips before it slipped lower, covered everything but his pale, vulnerable neck. Gloved fingers explored the quickened pace of his pulse there and Hux was glad for the distraction. He could see him now, his tormentor, through a visor that dissolved the world into contrasts. Ren's face, so fascinating to behold in its complexity, seemed almost hollow to him now, the impression in his eyes unreadable and distant – not, perhaps, entirely changed but instead robbed of what lay beyond the layers of sullen wrath.

Masks, Hux soon realised, were a double-edged sword.

Ren, he suspected, had come to a similar conclusion. He felt their thighs touch as he leant against him heavily. His face, though tinged with muted colours, hovered only inches away from his own. Hux wished desperately for a taste of his breath but the world behind the mask remained still and unchanging.

This didn't feel like control. It felt like a containment cell, a self-imposed prison, and he'd had enough. Ren's presence threatened to overwhelm him. His body felt uncomfortably, feverishly close. Straining against him, Hux pushed against the sharp edges of the mask with palms that were marred by the crescent shape of fingernails. 

Ren held him back then, and the hand around Hux' throat grew ever more persistent.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice deceptively soft, yet stripped of its allure almost entirely. Hux felt a strong arm encircle his waist. Its familiar weight settled there and pulled him even closer.

In that moment Hux hated Ren. There was no room left in his thoughts for the shameful impulse that had led them to this. Was that how Ren saw him when he was wearing that infernal helmet?

“If you don't remove-” but the voice that wasn't his own faltered amidst the deep crackle of mechanised syllables.

“You wanted this.”

A cruel mockery of a kiss, Ren mouthed the words against where Hux' lips trembled behind thin layers of scratched and unpolished metal. He didn't dare speak. His voice, his very thoughts were no longer his own, and he didn't trust himself. Trapped beneath the shell that Ren, for whatever misguided purpose, had chosen for himself, the only remnant of control that was left to him was the rigid arch of his back, the painful tension in his shoulders. With utmost composure he endured, and waited for Ren's attention to wash over him.

When, at last, the helmet came off – its wicked, grimacing curve discarded on the polished floor – Ren kissed away the salty traces of despair on Hux' flushed cheeks. He let pale fingers run through dishevelled strands of red, and Hux watched him, tried to fathom the depths in Ren's eyes; if only to drown in them tonight.


End file.
